


More Substantial Nourishment

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Bloodplay, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-29
Updated: 2005-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sort of a sequel to Rock-A-Bye. It contains Wes/Lilah with Wes/Angel implied) Alone with only his thoughts, Wesley contemplates the choices he made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Substantial Nourishment

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

~*~*~*~*~*

 

I wanted you to touch me. 

Is that insane? 

Sometimes I think that’s all that I have left. Insanity. Or something disturbingly similar. 

Tonight I sit alone in my flat, the remnants of a highball swirling in the bottom of my glass. The lights dim. I stare into the amber, bring it to my lips and taste the burn as it sears my throat, reminding me that I’m alive. 

The room’s in shambles. Books tumbled from the desk lay scattered on the floor. My sacred books. A dry chuckle rises in my throat and I slowly shake my head, surveying the carnage of yet another evening’s revelry, tossing, rolling, jockeying for position with my evil seductress two nights ago. Carpet burns, bruises and bites are the ultimate reward for a job well done. But I must admit, knowing she limped to her meeting had its delicious merits, as well. Good for the male ego. A smile tips the corner of my lips. I study my glass.

Empty.

I sigh.

*You’re running your own game now.*

Almost all the pieces are positioned on the board of life. It was essential for me to raise you…or so I tell myself…

My own game.

I tip my glass in silent salute to a Resikhian urn tucked innocently on a shelf, propping up an array of Demonology texts – a souvenir. How the mighty have fallen. 

How many slaves can one apartment hold?

Stone walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a cage – but closets and enchanted urns work wonders in a pinch.

It was essential for me to raise you…or so I tell myself…

I wanted you to touch me. To look into your eyes and see…something. *Anything.*

I raise my empty glass and stare into the crystal as it catches the waning light of the room. The dimensions of color reflect in the prism of the glass. *Your lips pressed greedily against my skin…needing me, if only for the breath of a moment in time.* A memory surges though me, sending tingles through my arm into my chest and I tremble, stunned by its intensity as I catch my breath.

Tonight, she commented on the slice on the inside of my forearm. Licked it even, with her evil tongue. I opened my mouth to lie. To tell her about the demon I fought several nights ago that swiped me with its claws. I shut my mouth. Why bother.

She pressed her lips to the wound. Lightly sucked….

A moan tore from my lips, surprising me with the force of emotion the simple act produced. She grinned and touched the tiniest tip of her tongue to the cut. I shuddered.

Her grin grew wide. “Like that, do ya?”

I watched her.

She watched me.

The grin vanished and she dipped her head, bringing her lips to the tiny trickle of blood her ministrations caused. Sucked.

*Your lips. The strength of you nursing deeply, straining to reclaim your life as you cling to my arm. A lifeline… I gave you life.*

A hiss tore from my throat and my head flew back, striking the arm of the sofa where we lay entwined, panting. She snaked against the length of my body and pulled deeply on the cut with her mouth, relishing the unexpected reaction. I shuddered, jolts of passion surging down my body and pooling in my groin. Stunned by my reaction but powerless to prevent it, I seized her hair. Held tight. Preventing any chance that this would end. 

“Suck…. harder….” I rasped, an order that left no room for debate.

I could feel her smile against my flesh even as her wicked mouth drew deeply on the wound, teeth daring to tear my skin.

*Your lips pressed against my arm, drawing my blood into your veins…*

“God…*yes.*”

The world dissolved around me; my body writhed against her in rhythm to the pull of her lips, grinding my hips into hers, heedless of the barrier of clothing between us. Her corporate gray skirt. My dark jeans. My erection strained painfully within the confines of the denim, fighting to be set free. The pain was electrifying. 

*I could have fed you that loathsome slag chained in the corner. Should have fed you…

…Why did I choose to force your mouth…* 

She sucked deeply, truly drawing blood this time; I could feel it pull through the tear in my flesh. I gasped and ground my groin against hers. She laughed, and the vibrations surged through me as she shifted, shoving up her skirt now twisted at her waist, baring a smooth behind that my free hand seized, my fingers tearing into pale skin. No underwear. No surprise. She rubbed herself against the rough strained denim and moaned, still sucking…

The room began to sway like the rock of a boat beneath my feet.

*He’ll turn on you….you and all your friends…*

“Damn…yes…” I hissed as the world grew dark around me and all that remained was the pull, the burn of her lips draining my life’s essence through the tear in my throbbing flesh. Throbbing. The ache in my groin as I ground against her naked flesh. Good god.

“I’m…coming!” 

I couldn’t believe the truth of my words, my body’s reaction to the draw of her lips. The groan that tore from my throat and became a roar as my body lunged, shuddered…. spiraled over the edge….

Her laughter echoed through the pounding in my ears as reality slowly came into focus around me and my vision cleared. She sat up, straddling my denim-clad hips, her skirt scrunched around her waist, revealing the tuft of down, curls lightly glistening pressed against my crotch. A smile snaked over her lips.

She didn’t demand reciprocity, a wicked glint in her eyes as she stroked herself a final time against my still panting and trembling body then abruptly dismounted. Stood. Slipped her feet into her heels and smoothed her skirt down over her hips. She turned, looked down at me sprawled across the sofa. Her eyes lingered briefly on the trickle of blood glistening down the pale flesh of my inner arm thrust back and over my head. Her eyebrow slowly inched into her hairline.

My eyes dared her to comment.

She tilted her chin up, turned and sauntered to the exit.

I didn’t turn at the sound of the door closing in her wake but continued to lay in the gathering darkness of the room as evening slowly gave way to the purple haze of coming night. How long I lay there, sprawled, I’ve no idea. Time doesn’t have the same meaning for me that it once did in days gone by when I had schedules to keep and responsibilities. People who depended on me. Cared. My time belongs to no one; people answer to me.

*The great Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, the shining beacon of all that’s good and pure.*

Now I sit alone. The glass in my hand empty, begging me to refill it. I really should seek something more substantial, even she has commented on how gaunt I’ve become these past few months.

I stare blindly into the glass…

I wanted you to touch me.

Is that insane?

 

~~The End


End file.
